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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26245126">Friends in low places</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/pseuds/chaos_monkey'>chaos_monkey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Catskier, Fluff, Gen, of both the literal and emotional varieties, pre-Geraskier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:07:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,445</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26245126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/pseuds/chaos_monkey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt makes an unexpected friend— and gets to pet a cat for the first time— after one wanders into his camp one evening.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>234</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Friends in low places</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_stars/gifts">some_stars</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I originally wrote this as a little not-fic for some_stars on <a href="https://chaos-monkeyy.tumblr.com/post/622711399885537280/some-stars-dontyouspeakhideandseek">Tumblr</a>, and finally cleaned it up and turned it into a proper ficlet!</p><p>(Title taken from the Garth Brooks song because I think I'm funny)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Geralt’s just finished setting up camp for the night when the cat shows up. </p><p>He pauses, eyeing the animal warily as it slinks into the circle of dancing firelight. It’s a brown tabby, large and rangy. Not particularly scarred up, like many he’s seen, and it doesn’t seem injured either. But it’s decidedly bedraggled, and looks a little too lean to be entirely healthy. At least, it <em> seems </em>to be on the skinny side to Geralt— he hasn’t much experience with the little beasts. There are always a handful of half-feral barn cats lurking around Kaer Morhen, which is nice inasmuch as they keep the rats and mice down. But it’s a tense, if cautiously respectful relationship. Cats don’t like Witchers, especially those of the Wolf school, and Witchers don’t like cats. They tolerate one another, at best. </p><p>This cat, though… apparently this cat never got the message about the uneasy truce. It struts right on into his campsite as though it owns the place, sits down just a few paces away from Geralt, and fixes him with an unblinking stare. </p><p>Geralt stares right back; then shrugs, grunts, and leaves to check the snares. </p><p>He hears a distant scuffle and a squeak in between collecting the two rabbits he’s snared. The cat is still there when he gets back, but now it’s hunkered down on the other side of the fire, tearing ferociously at an unfortunate small animal of its own. </p><p>It pauses and tenses when Geralt nears, paws tightening and claws sinking deeper into the torn flesh of its prey as it watches him. </p><p>Geralt huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re fine. Got my own,” he says, holding up the pair of rabbits. </p><p>The cat keeps an eye on him until he starts skinning them at the edge of camp; then finally goes back to its own meal. The only sounds for the next while are the cracking of bones between the cat’s jaws, the hiss of Geralt’s knife through fur and sinew, and Roach munching away contentedly at her nosebag. By the time Geralt sets his dinner cooking over a bed of hot coals, the cat has long since finished eating. There’s not much else to do while he waits except turn the spit every now and then, so he sits on a fallen log and watches curiously as the little beast washes itself with an impressively single-minded intensity. It’s sitting a little ways from the fire, half in the creeping shadows of the forest around them and half lit by the flickering tongues of flame Geralt left burning off to one side of the firepit. </p><p>He’s still slightly confused by the fact that the cat hasn’t left yet, even more so that it’s even there at all; and that confusion deepens a short time later when the cat hops to its feet and pads over to wend between Geralt’s legs while he eats. </p><p>Geralt freezes mid-bite. This is not at all the kind of attention he’s used to receiving from cats. This one is <em> suspiciously </em>friendly, making inquisitive little chirping noises and rubbing against his shins. It pauses, looking up at him with eyes that shine in the darkness much like Geralt’s own— and headbutts his leg without ever looking away from the meat in his hands. </p><p>
  <em> Ah.  </em>
</p><p>“You had yours,” Geralt grunts, tearing off another bite and steadfastly not looking at the somehow accusing feline gaze hovering just to one side of his knee. “Go find another if you’re still hungry.” </p><p>The cat, of course, doesn’t listen, just keeps watching intently while Geralt finishes the first rabbit and starts on the other. And Geralt finally gives in and tosses the remaining half of his second rabbit to the cat after it <em> leans </em>against the side of his leg and stays there, its head tilted hopefully against his calf and the quiet rumble of its purr filling the air. </p><p>It abandons Geralt’s leg immediately, pouncing and tearing into the half-eaten rabbit as though it hadn’t already scarfed down its own catch that evening. </p><p>“Hm. Guess you’re still hungry after all,” Geralt allows, climbing to his feet and stretching with a sigh. </p><p>He leaves the cat to its second dinner while he gets Roach settled in for the night— but when he turns around again to bank the fire and get ready for bed himself, he finds his bedroll… already occupied. The cat has curled up smack in the middle of his bedding, fast asleep with its head on its own feet and a stomach rounded by what must be half its own weight in rabbit, judging by the bare bones scattered on the ground by the fire. Grumbling under his breath, Geralt stalks far enough out of the campsite to bury the remains of both rabbits before finally sliding into the bedroll— <em> his </em>bedroll— for the night. The cat barely seems to notice, or care, when he warily nudges it far enough over that he can lie on his side next to it. </p><p>The soft, rhythmic rumbling of its purr is strangely soothing; and to his own mild surprise, Geralt quickly falls asleep like that, half curled around the little animal as it slumbers on, warm, calm, and entirely unconcerned. </p><p>He wakes up the next morning to find the cat sitting on his chest and brazenly watching him sleep, its eyes a striking bright blue in the beam of sunlight slanting through a gap in the trees. It’s somehow not nearly as disconcerting as it should be, though, and when Geralt packs up camp and the cat hops up onto Roach’s saddle— surprisingly, Roach doesn’t seem to mind— Geralt pauses, shrugs, and doesn’t object. </p><p>And the cat… stays with him. Sometimes it hunts its own small animals for food, though it’s mostly content to mooch off Geralt instead; and it curls up to sleep with him every night. It’s… actually really nice, and the first time Geralt cautiously reaches out a hand to pet the small creature sharing his bedroll, it’s with something akin to wonder because no cat has ever let him touch it before. </p><p>He pets the cat more and more often after that first time, and he couldn’t honestly have said which of them seems to enjoy it more. The cat certainly loves it: the little beast purrs louder than ever, tilts its head back and forth to guide Geralt’s fingers to what are apparently the best spots, and nuzzles into his hand for more whenever he dares stop too soon. Once, it even rolls onto its back beside him, baring the long, soft fur of its underbelly in an unexpected but clear gesture of trust that makes Geralt’s throat tighten and prickle. Just a little. </p><p>For himself, Geralt finds it oddly calming: absentmindedly smoothing that warm, sleek fur under his fingers, feeling the animal’s skin shifting over the delicate bone structure beneath in an odd but not unpleasant manner while he pets it, those rhythmic vibrations strong against his palm as the cat almost <em> sings </em>under his touch. </p><p>Without really meaning to, Geralt winds up talking to the cat just as he does with Roach, more and more frequently as the days pass. And the cat almost seems to… listen. Actively <em> listen— </em> especially when Geralt’s letting out some of his quiet, deeper fears and insecurities and frustrations. All those thoughts that scream around in his head on occasion; thoughts he could never find the words to say to another person even if he ever <em> wanted </em>to. </p><p>One evening, while they eat dinner he’s caught for them both and Roach grazes on a convenient grassy knoll nearby, Geralt’s complaining to the cat about the fact that Jaskier hasn’t shown up yet— because it’s been awhile; normally the bard would have come back to bother him by now, and Geralt doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or disappointed or worried by that— when the cat walks over, hops up onto his thigh, and <em> mrowls </em>in his face, claws digging into his leg hard enough to puncture holes in the damn leather.</p><p>Geralt swears, does <em> not </em> yelp in surprise, and tosses the cat off his lap— and the bloody thing does it <em> again. </em>This time it headbutts him in the cheek as well, and then it stares him straight in the eyes with an almost expectant look. </p><p>This is, admittedly, the only cat Geralt’s ever dealt with, but there’s something… <em> off </em>about the indignant way the animal is holding itself, the way those bright blue eyes are fixed steadily on his— </p><p>Those bright blue, and now that he really stops and thinks about it, oddly <em> familiar </em>and far too intelligent eyes. </p><p>“Fuck.” </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26336929">[Podfic] Friends in low places</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress/pseuds/Chantress">Chantress</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
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